


How Sasha Once Explained Marco What Shipping Is And How It Became Crucial To His Life

by InkyKinky



Series: The JeanMarco Project [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Christmas, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer - Freeform, Smut, Swimmer!Marco, crappy Christmas presents, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyKinky/pseuds/InkyKinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically the title, Marco getting deeply religious, and a white Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Sasha Once Explained Marco What Shipping Is And How It Became Crucial To His Life

**Author's Note:**

> Marco's POV, I hope you'll laugh a lot.
> 
> I also have a [Tumblr](http://inkykinky.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/inky_kinky).

‘You know,’ Sasha said, grinning widely, ‘it’s basically – see, you have Nagisa, and look at how _hard_ he tries to get Rei into the swim team, or in general, how flustered Rei is whenever Nagisa is around. That’s – that’s _love_.’

‘So they are shipping material?’ Marco asked, his eyebrows pulled up, questioning if he got it right.

‘Exactly!’

‘OK, so basically, it’s nothing else but – matchmaking? For … fictional characters.’

‘Yes. Kind of. You see, it’s you want these characters to be a thing, and some ships are canon, maybe like Ron and Hermione, some can be indicated by the canon, and some are just … because the chemistry _could_ work or is kinda interesting. I love crack-ships,’ Sasha chuckled into her sandwich.

‘Ah, I see,’ Marco nodded. Since Sasha had dived into the whole tumblr-and-therefore-also-anime thing, she was all about that kind of stuff. Not that he really minded, she definitely got him into _Free!_ as well, not only because it was about a swim team. It was … actually good.

‘And that’s what all the – fanfics are about?’

Sasha nodded confirming, not without a proud grin on how fast her pupil kept up.

‘And the whole matchmaking part happens in the fanfics, basically. Like, you write AUs – people seem to love college AUs – they fall in love, they have sex, and if you are unfortunate the fic has just started and consists of thirty plus chapters.’

‘W-why is it something bad?’ Marco blinked owlishly at the girl in front of him, ‘I mean … more time for … _you know_ …?’ He became beet-red at the thought.

‘If there’s an _actual_ plot, that’s frigging dangerous, Marco,’ Sasha fixated him with a dead-serious stare, ‘All the broken hearts…’ She clutched her chest and pretended to sob.

‘Oh-kay.’ Marco eyed her, maybe a little scared. He couldn’t say that those adult content writings didn’t excite him – Sasha had sent him quite a bunch once but he still hadn’t read them, maybe because he probably couldn’t look into his mother’s eyes for weeks if he did, but he really was intrigued. It could distract him a bit from his own miserable love-life.

‘There are also some weirdos,’ Sasha mused while staring out of the class room window, ‘who take people like Dan and Phil and write smut about them. I don’t know, I think it’s weird. It’s as though I’d write smut about you and Jean. Though _actually_ …’

‘Sasha no!’ Marco groaned, and he seriously was glad that no-one else spent their lunch break with them. Sasha pretty much was the only person whom he had told about his giant crush on Jean he cherished since seventh grade, and having a written proof of that somewhere, or even just the idea of how his best friend imagined him having actual sex manifested in words, made this at least five-hundred times more horrible than it already was.

‘Don’t panic, man,’ Sasha sniggered, ‘I ain’t doin’ that.’

‘If I just could _believe_ you,’ Marco moaned, not very successfully hiding his giggles.

That was in September.

 

Now they were in those awful weeks between Autumn and Christmas holidays where each and every teacher placed their exams and presentations, and Marco stared at his phone screen.

**From: Sasha Braus  
How long is your dick**

He stared, and stared, and stared, but the question without the correct punctuation didn’t morph into something less … weird.

_What was this about? What did Sasha do? What did she plan, this wasn’t something normal friends asked each other, was it?_

Marco at least never wanted to know what cup size Sasha had, and it’d feel extremely awkward to actually ask that. That was something private, maybe a significant other could ask such things –

_Oh._

_Please don’t let this be something about Jean, this definitely means no good, however you look at this_ , Marco prayed silently in his bed.

After what felt like eternity, he replied.

**To: Sasha Braus  
Uhm... Sasha? Are you well?**

With this, he was safe. _Was he?_

**From: Sasha Braus  
Yes goddamn marco just tell me i need it for research**

Wait – for _research_? Sasha clearly had dismissed Biology after one year with the most crazy teacher their school or, more in general, their country had to offer, and there seriously couldn’t be a single reason why she needed it for research in any other subject. Especially, why his … _penis_?

**To: Sasha Braus  
For what do you need it exactly? I mean you are not drunk or anything? Or did you smoke weed again?**

Yes, that was more likely. Just drugged Sasha, it wasn’t the first time.

**From: Sasha Braus  
NO MARCO IM PERFECTLY SOBER I JUST REALLY NEED TO KNOW**

This slowly became more and more scary. What should he do? He worried on his lips.

**To: Sasha Braus  
I think it has kind of average size?**

Maybe this would calm her. He had seriously no idea about what _average_ actually was, and he seriously _never_ had done anything close to _measuring it_ , but this must be the safest thing to say.

**From: Sasha Braus  
BUT I NEED TO KNOW WHATS AVERAGE DEAR LORD**

_Okay. OKAY. How to handle this._ He seriously had no idea.

**To: Sasha Braus  
Err… **

Marco bit on his lip. _Should he…?_ That would give himself some clarity, and before Sasha burned down houses or something, it was easier to just tell her. _If he just knew…_

 _Jean, think about Jean_ – and suddenly, Marco’s hand was at his fly. He hoped that his little sister won’t have a fight with their mum and came storming in _just because it was so unjust_ , not _now_.

 _Jean, how he kisses him on plump, swollen lips, how he breathes into his neck, how his fingers wrap around his cock_ –

Marco was palming himself through his underwear, a deep shade of red on his cheeks from the embarrassment and _shame_. This was so _wrong, dear Lord, someone slap him with a bible._

His phone was buzzing next to his pillow, but he simply ignored it, imagining how it were _his_ hands diving beyond the rim to pull at his _hard_ –

 _Wait, that was the purpose_. He felt how the first drops of pre-come soaked through his shirt, and he pulled down his pants to the knees, letting his boner spring free. It was like the most sinful thing he had ever done as he grabbed for his mum’s measuring tape on his desk from when she had to scribble down his shoulder and collar width for new shirts. He felt so lewd and _dirty_ , but somehow this made it the more _exciting_.

He seriously should sort out his life.

He was _so_ going to hell for this.

He tried to fix one end on his base, though he wasn’t sure whether to use the bottom or top end, and rolled the rest along the slight curve it made, trying not so smear pre-come on the tape.

 _Was roundabout twenty centimetres average?_ He knew that the other boys in the swim team had probably smaller ones, but he had never seen them … _erect_. This could make a huge difference. He had heard.

Okay, maybe he should stop lying to himself that _he most definitely did not watch gay porn_ , because he did. He usually loved to blame Sasha for this since she made him read those fanfics as well, but in truth it was all about how needy and very desperate he actually was.

He whipped the tape dry, just in case, before it snapped back into the plastic case. What did he do with his boner now – wait, there was still a message on his phone.

**From: Sasha Braus  
I looked it up 13 cm**

_Oh._

_Then this is. Most definitely. Not. Average._

**To: Sasha Braus  
OK no, it’s a bit larger.**

It most definitely was, and his arousal seemed to be staring at him at the moment, judging, making the entire thing more embarrassing than it already was.

**From: Sasha Braus  
DID YOU JUST PALM YOURSELF TO KNOW HOW LARGE YOU ARE GODDAMNIT MARCO THE POOR RULER**

_It’s a measuring tape_ , Marco corrected her in his head defensively, and he really didn’t need to be told how wrong this was. He _knew_. It didn’t change the fact that his face had the colour of a tomato.

**To: Sasha Braus  
You asked me!**

Well, it was true.

**From: Sasha Braus  
OK if bigger than average then how long**

_After all you did it for science, now you just could tell her_ , he mused. He got rid of his jeans and pants entirely before he snug into his covers because it got cold. He needed to do the maths for a bit, but then he typed an answer.

**To: Sasha Braus  
About um... 5-8 cm longer I don’t know where it really starts I’m sorry oh God this is embarrassing please don’t tell anyone we had this conversation...**

He really prayed for Jean never to find their phones. Or Connie. He didn’t know what’d be worse.

**From: Sasha Braus  
Ok thanks do you know how longs lil jean**

If it was possible, he blushed even harder at that.

**To: Sasha Braus  
Sasha, what are you doing? And I really have no idea... I mean I could /guess/ but that clearly would be in favour for Jean and maybe not quite realistic. And I’m really bad at guessing sizes. Why do you actually need to know such stuff?**

He waited anxiously for a reply, but Sasha didn’t send anything after that. And after all, he still had a more or less average problem downstairs.

Marco rolled up his sleeves and pushed his shirt up his stomach that it won’t get soaked before he began stroking his length. _Oh God_ , did it feel good.

_Imagine how Jean’s hand wraps around you, how he slowly goes down on you with that challenging glint in his eyes, kissing your hips, closing his mouth around your cock…_

It didn’t take much for Marco to come.

***

Marco really wanted to know what Sasha was about, it was a question burning passionately on his lips, but he had no class with her on Fridays and she hadn’t replied to his last message.

_Maybe it was an internet-thing…? Like who of your friends was the biggest?_

But since Sasha notoriously had refused to give any of her friends her Tumblr URL, it kept Marco from worrying too much.

As soon as Jean started throwing nervous glances at him every now and then during History, Marco really didn’t know what was up. He also didn’t dare to ask for obvious reasons, one of them was him _jerking off to his best friend not even nearly twenty-four hours ago_. His freckled cheeks turned a furious red, and Ms Ral asked kindly if he was well since he seemed so tense.

‘No, no, I’m fine,’ he replied, trying to hide his face from the rest of the class. _Oh God, everything got out of hand, thank you Sasha, thank you very much._

And his suffering didn’t end that day.

When he was safe and warmly wrapped up in his blanket-burrito that evening while watching _Pride and Prejudice_ because he felt like it and his sister didn’t mind lending her 2005 DVD, he received a message.

**From: Sasha Braus  
Jeanie wants 2 know ur crush**

Marco’s eyes widened it panic.

_Oh my God no._

**To: Sasha Braus  
Oh God what have you done Sasha?**

The time Sasha needed to reply was horrible, his guts twisting in every uncomfortable way. _What did Jean know._

**From: Sasha Braus  
I said youd like a dick**

Marco squinted.

**To: Sasha Braus  
/A/ dick?**

No answer. How was this girl able to ruin his entire life and he couldn’t even be really angry with her? _What kind of sorcery is this?_

Then…

**From: Sasha Braus  
Hang on ur dick is bigger than jeans **

What was he supposed to do with this information – wait, _what_? Why the bloody hell did she know that? What was she doing, what – _Oh no_.

It slowly dawned to Marco. A conversation from summer came back into his mind, and all his blood had drained from his face. This couldn’t be real, this was too surreal to take place in his very real life, Sasha had called it _weird_ –

**To: Sasha Braus  
Sasha? Are you serious or is Connie just with you?**

This was a legitimate question.

**From: Sasha Braus  
Not yet**

She was serious. Dead serious.

**To: Sasha Braus  
Sasha...? :o I am scared.**

Another buzz.

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
Sasha says u have a crush amirite**

OK, _no_ , scratch how he couldn’t even be really angry with Sasha, he most definitely was angry at her.

**To: Jean Kirschtein  
It’s Sasha we’re talking about here :-D**

_Right. Deny everything. It’s all Sasha’s fault._

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
Dont mean she aint rite**

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
Why didnt u tell me u r gay u r gay rite**

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
Is it a problem 2 u**

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
U kno i dont judge u only if u lie 2 me cuz thats a dick move**

**To: Jean Kirschtein  
I didn’t lie to you!**

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
Then who is it dude**

**To: Sasha Braus  
Sasha...? Jean wants to know whom I fancy, I need your help, what do I do???? D-:**

He was simply panicking. He couldn’t confess to Jean, and especially not now via SMS. There was Elizabeth accusing Mr Darcy on his laptop screen in the background, just as he had declared his love – _no, we aren’t going there, Marco._

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
HOW DOES EVERYONE KNOW BUT ME MARCO WHAT IS THIS SHIT?!??!?**

_Pleasepleasepleaseplease PLEASE_ , Marco prayed, but it didn’t stop.

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
AND WHY DOES NOONE TELL ME???!?!?!? LIKE AM I NOT YOUR BF?? I SHOULD KNO SUCH THINGS?????**

_What._

**To: Jean Kirschtein  
BF?**

Tentatively, he clicked on send. Marco’s heart hammered in his chest. _Did Jean just forget to put the second F there? And if not then what did that mean what did that make them, why did Sasha not reply?_

 **From: Jean Kirschtein  
** **Best friend**  
**Srsly dude u can be such a dick like why the fuck didnt u tell me why did sash kno everything and i dont??**

Simply because _it is you Jean_ , Marco yelled at him mentally.

 **To: Jean Kirschtein  
I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to leave you in the dark. ** – _Oh what a lie_ – **It’s just not for so long yet and really new to me** – _this is also wrong_ – **and I don’t even know if this is actually real.**

_What. A. Lie._

He felt so horrible in sending this text, but it was for the best. However accepting Jean ever would be, he simply knew Jean would quit as soon as he found out the truth.

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
What makes it so different from tellin me now that i know?**

_Maybe just don’t reply_ , a voice whispered in his head.

**To: Jean Kirschtein  
It’s not so easy, Jean. I need to figure out…a lot at first.**

_Stupid, but I did it anyway_ , Marco mused as he pressed send.

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
Whats so different to sasha**

Oh, _that_ was easy.

**To: Jean Kirschtein  
She’s a girl and knows probably more about falling in love with a guy than you do, Jean. I’m sorry, but the last I could need right now is Reiner Braun knowing about this.**

Hopefully, this didn’t sound too weird.

**From: Jean Kirschtein  
But how is she less likely to tell reiner? Is reiner ur crush??**

Marco rolled his eyes.

**To: Jean Kirschtein  
No, he is not. I just don’t need the entire school to know that Marco Bott is gay, especially if I’m not certain I actually am. And compared to you, Sasha isn’t an open book to him.**

He couldn’t argue with this. _Could he?_

Marco worried his lip, but there came no other message from his friend. Elizabeth was just hurrying back home after Lydia eloped, and Marco nestled deeper into his cocoon, falling asleep before the credits scrolled down.

***

The following days couldn’t be explained differently than plainly weird. Jean was poking Marco with one and the same question again and again whenever they happened to be alone, and to Marco’s fortune, it was never Jean suggesting himself whenever he wanted to get names into the game.

‘ _No_ , Jean, I _don’t_ have a crush on Eren,’ Marco replied, voice strained as they walked to the tram stop together.

‘Oh, _then_ it’s someone from the swim team, how didn’t I get this idea, I’m so dumb.’

Marco just had to laugh because _oh boy_.

‘No, Jean, I’m sorry, I’m not –’

There was this look again in his eyes, that look that gave Marco wobbly knees and took away his breath. Marco blushed.

‘You are!’ Jean grinned triumphantly, obviously deducing that from his blush. _Oh that could be a fun ride_ , Marco thought with a smug grin.

‘Nope, even Eren was closer than that.’

And Jean _pouted_.

How Marco would have loved to kiss those _pouting, plump lips_ right then – but he couldn’t.

‘You just say that to confuse me,’ Jean mewled.

‘Maybe,’ Marco smirked as he entered the tram. Seriously, this became a fun game if he was honest. When Marco had to leave for his stop, Jean had checked at least a dozen names, some of them even twice, and he still had no clue.

 _What if he just can’t believe I was into him? What if he has a crush on me?_ Marco wondered while shopping for the first Christmas presents (seriously, you could never start too early.) But this was just so unlikely, how could Jean Mr I-Am-So-Straight-That-You-Could-Use-Me-As-A-Water-Level even slightly think that way?

 _If_ he had had a crush on Marco, he probably had blurted something out as soon as he had realised, just like with Mikasa. The memory still hurt, but oh well, Marco had no right to judge.

***

Somehow, Jean became quiet the more time passed. Unusually quiet, if Marco was honest, but at least he didn’t bother him about his crush anymore. They kind of co-existed, they still had their gaming nights and all, but it wasn’t as noisy as it usually was. But it also became more difficult to look away. From Jean.

Marco didn’t know what it was, or why Jean suddenly decided to wear jeans which Marco believed Jean hadn’t worn since forever simply because they were too small – but they weren’t. They just looked incredibly tight and barely left anything to Marco’s imagination, and it should have been illegal. He also wore _that one special grey shirt_ very often that Jean usually had for going-out nights, and Marco wondered if Mrs Kirschtein won’t refuse to wash it all the time in near future, seeing as it needed special care and ironing. But who was Marco to complain if it just looked murderously good, especially with sleeves rolled up.

Sasha’s weird texts had also ended, so either she had given up, or she was already done, and Marco dreaded the last option, most definitely he did so, because the situation was hard enough as it already was, partly literally speaking.

Swim practice offered, more than usual, enough sore muscles for Marco to fantasise about Jean massaging him under the shower, sliding their bodies together, kissing his neck. Sometimes he hated team showers for that, but in the end, he probably was glad. He shouldn’t linger in his daydreams about a crush he knew would never be a real thing. Not if he could count one and one together, with Jean wearing _hot stuff_.

As far as he didn’t complain, he also did know that there must have been a reason for this, and he had seen it all before when Mikasa was basically all Jean could think, say, and breathe. _And now it was …_ someone else _. Maybe someone from the lower classes? Or maybe … no Bott, we aren’t that desperate. We are not making up things, he impossibly could be … could he?_

When those thoughts occurred to Marco, Jean did sit mere metres away, squished between Connie, Eren, and Armin, _very_ invested into Sasha’s football game, brows knitted together in a concentrated frown. _Was it Sasha?_

_Noooo… he doesn’t even look her way. No._

Was he though?

_No, wait, you are overthinking things again, that’s no good, Marco, just let this man be…_

_But who?_

The game and the aftermath didn’t give him any hint, and it was bothering him. _Why didn’t Jean say a thing? Was that payback for Marco? Did he just make him believe he was in love with someone just to make a fool out of him?_

 _Oh Jean, really, that’s so low…_ But nothing happened. Jean didn’t say a thing. Not that day. Or the day after that. Nor two weeks later when Marco ran into Eren and Jean discussing vividly in low voices, but suddenly stopping as soon as Marco was in earshot, and Jean constantly shooting glares at the green-eyed boy in his company. If Marco didn’t have his birthday in June, he probably would’ve believed they were planning a surprise party or something like that, but he most definitely didn’t have his birthday in near future, nor any anniversaries he should be aware of. Only … _Christmas. Did they plan anything on Christmas? Or New Year’s? Was it something he should be afraid of?_

So with even more mixed feelings than usual he attended the annual Christmas Bazaar of their school where he sold self-made cookies and crêpes which were really popular with everyone who didn’t have lunch that day. So he stood with Christa together in their little stand in the auditorium, observing how the crowds passed by, or rather how 75% were stopping to get a crêpe, and they almost ran out of dough before the next shift could save them.

When he had about a quarter left until Bert would switch places with him, Marco heard a faint yell that sounded enormously like Sasha shouting his name. Somewhere in the crowds he saw a hand waving at him and he waved back smiling before he noticed he almost was burning the crêpe in his pan.

‘Would you mind meeting us in the music room after your shift?’ he heard her say over the people’s heads.

‘Sure, see you then!’ Marco grinned back and occupied himself with baking more French pancakes and filling them with Nutella.

The shift ended faster than he had anticipated, and so he was strolling through the packed auditorium until he reached the exit to the staircase. The music rooms were on the top floor, and with so many people running up and down the stairs, even with his broader frame, it was rather difficult for Marco to reach it.

When he walked down the corridor, he already could make out something that was probably supposed to be Helene Fischer, very out of tune, and he didn’t need to look for his friends any longer either since they were standing almost in the door, smiling as soon as they saw him, and he waved at them happily.

‘Hey, guys! What’s up?’ Marco grinned as he reached Connie, Sasha, and Jean.

‘I think these two goofballs,’ Jean nodded in Connie and Sasha’s direction, ‘want to sing karaoke, and as I know these two we’ll end up as–’

‘ _Aach_ , shut up, Kirschtein,’ Sasha interrupted him with an eye-roll, ‘No, we don’t want to sing karaoke, though if you feel the urge you totally can do that, but _after_ I gave you your Christmas presents.’

Marco and Jean blinked at her owlishly as she fumbled with her cotton bag, adorned with a comic Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer sewn on one side, its nose actually enlightened with a red LED. Marco remembered how she bought it mere days ago on the Christmas market in the city centre.

The presents turned out to be two DIN A 4 sized, flabby things wrapped into awful paper that could come straight from the 50s that Sasha pushed into either hands.

‘I don’t care who gets which, they are basically identical,’ she said to a very confused Marco. No, actually he wasn’t confused at all, he just couldn’t _believe_ it. Jean was eyeing her suspectingly.

‘I don’t know, if you want to unwrap it now, you should go somewhere else that you can discuss the content without public audience – or you wait until Christmas Eve, yet under one condition: You have to phone each other immediately after you have examined you present. Love you guys,’ she quickly hugged them, rushing a peck on their cheeks without a warning and vanished with Connie on her heels. Marco stared for a while dumbfounded back at where she just had stood, not able to prepare for what was now unavoidable.

‘So, what is that?’ Jean eyed the cherry-red folder he just had unwrapped. Marco shrugged, pretending not to know though he had a horrible, horrible foreboding, and fought with the ribbon on his parcel.

‘She was so odd lately, anyway. Like asking for my dick size and telling that you two have snoged before … This girl is kind of crazy,’ Jean muttered further, not noticing how deep red Marco was underneath his freckles. Somewhere in the background it seemed that Dr. Hanji was singing _1000 und 1 Nacht_ , and this was just so weirdly ironic considering Marco’s situation.

‘I don’t know, m-maybe open it,’ Marco suggested, trying to cool down his nervousness. ‘I don’t think that Sasha would just give us some old folders she does not – _oh._ ’

Jean had done as he was told, and the front cover titled **“The JeanMarco Project. _An essay on why these two should be definitely together or at least have sex._ ”**

This was the moment when Marco favoured a very very sudden death.

‘Oh.’

‘My.’

‘ _God._ ’

Marco could feel the heat rushing into his face that he was sure he at least had to pass out by so much blood in his head, but he did not. He still stared at the paper Sasha undoubtedly had finished, that Jean undoubtedly stared at as well, reading undoubtedly the very same words.

 _Sasha, I hate you, I so most certainly hate you_ – but Jean suddenly started laughing. It sounded a bit hysterical, but it was a laugh, maybe it wasn’t half as bad as Marco had thought, maybe he would consider it a joke from Sasha’s side because it was just her quirky, weird self, and well, she was into _such things_.

First pearls of laughter escaped Marco’s throat, maybe it was because Jean was laughing and it was just so infectious, maybe to loosen up his tension, maybe…

Jean’s eyes suddenly locked with his, his laughter stopped, and Marco was very sure that this was something called _‘bedroom-eyes’_.

Oh God.

_OH GOD._

‘I – I had no idea,’ was all Marco could mutter before his mind would go completely blank. It was intoxicating how Jean was so close with his honey eyes half-way closed and his lips parted slightly, and it was so hard not to let his eyes flutter shut but at the same time he wanted to drink in this sight as long as he could, his lips feeling so heavy, his heart hammering in his ribcage, rushing blood everywhere, _how could Sasha do this, how did she know_ – and Jean closed the distance, Marco’s eyes shutting down immediately. He felt Jean pulling him down on his level, and it was so _so_ good.

Marco did not know how, but _somehow_ Jean had pulled him into a silent corner in the basement close to the Biology labs and pressed him against the wall, their mouths barely leaving, and if they went on like that, Marco was certain he’d come in his pants. But suddenly, Jean pulled away, not for just breathing again, and leaned his forehead against Marco’s broad shoulder.

‘Marco?’ he panted, barely hiding the grin in his voice.

‘Hah?’ the freckled boy replied, his mind too dizzy to form a proper sentence yet.

‘So, this was like, just recent? I mean why the fuck did you even crush on me, I’m such a loser, and maybe it’s just a phase, I mean I’m not sure about the whole bisexual-thing either and that’s going on for a year or so and–’

‘A _year_?’ Marco looked at him, no, _staring_ at him almost bewildered, not believing what he just had heard.

‘Y-yes?’ Jean looked up at him, a bit nervous, ‘How long did you think I–’

‘Oh _God_ , I thought this was since, like, when Sasha was texting so weird things and I was so scared she’d tell you that I had a crush on you, and then you started wearing _those things_ again and I thought you’d have a crush on God knows who, and I just … I just –’

‘How long are you … then,’ Jean asked, his eyes evading Marco’s.

‘Since … since seventh grade?’ Marco’s face heated up again.

‘And _that_ is recent to you?’ Jean’s sarcasm was definitely audible.

‘I-I had to say something, I couldn’t just – just tell you – didn’t know what you’d think –’ but Marco’s voice fainted into a sighed moan as Jean slipped into his mouth again with his tongue, making his head spin and it became hard to breathe.

 

At one point, Marco texted his sister that they could go home without him because ‘he and his friends would go out afterwards’. Truth was that Jean’s parents won’t be home, and not five minutes after they had entered the house, Marco laid with his back flat on Jean’s bed.

‘Okay, first off, I’ve never done that before,’ Jean said while rapidly discarding his rather skinny jeans.

‘Me neither,’ Marco admitted with a blush, franticly fiddling with the buttons on his shirt until they finally popped open. After shoving his socks from his feet, Jean followed suit, of course wearing _that one grey shirt_ again, hastily kissing Marco as his shirt went flying somewhere into his desk’s direction. Somehow also Marco’s lower regions were freed that they sat on Jean’s covers only dressed in their boxers, both with considerable bulges. Jean hitched a breath.

‘I … mean … we could also … wait a little … if you want,’ Jean said cautiously, eyeing the freckled boy up hungrily.

‘Do you … want to wait?’ Marco asked, equally cautious not to step on someone’s borders. Jean shook his head slowly, his eyes fixating Marco with an almost sinful expression. It had something of the ‘lewd catholic schoolgirl’ kink, and Marco wasn’t sure if that _should_ turn him on because it most definitely made his dick twitch in his boxers.

‘No,’ Jean breathed as he leaned forward, joining their lips again in a wet, deep kiss, and settled himself in Marco’s lap, roaming his hands along Marco’s jawline, down his chest and over the well-toned swimmer-abs, sneaking beyond the waistband on Marco’s boxers and cupping his arse, squeezing it a bit and pulling the cheeks slightly apart while grinding their clothed arousals against each other, making Marco moan to the sensation of being so desperately wanted, needed, and every gasp into their kiss on Marco’s side made Jean grin.

Marco’s fingers rubbed down Jean’s back, tracing down his spine until he reached into Jean’s pants as well and palmed his arse slowly, sliding lower and lower until Jean’s butt was completely exposed. Jean arched his back from the tension between them, pressing their erections closer together that Marco could swear his heart just skipped a beat.

‘Jean– Jean I think we … maybe should – clarify,’ Marco breathed into the kiss, sliding Jean’s boxers down so his stiff cock could spring free, ‘who bottoms.’

‘Right, I don’t care, whatever you want,’ Jean muttered, way too occupied with dragging his lips wherever Marco had skin.

‘Jea– _Ah_ –n that’s not helping at all,’ Marco replied in a groan, tilting his head to the side to give Jean better access to his neck.

‘I could – suck you off – if you want,’ Jean said between open-mouthed kisses on freckled skin, and a moan escaped Marco’s throat, louder than intended.

‘That sounds like a yes,’ Jean sniggered, dragging his hands up Marco’s back and pushing him down on the mattress as soon as he had reached his shoulders. He licked his way down Marco’s chest, tugging at his nipples which made Marco groan and his dick twitch, even more so since Jean shifted in his lap and rubbed their cocks together by that. Marco was quick to pull Jean’s boxers down completely, the body-hair on his legs so strange to the swimmer, but it somehow felt nice against his palm. Jean shivered a bit as Marco slid his hands up Jean’s legs again, and he mouthed down Marco’s stomach, smooth as a baby-butt but still so toned and _freaking hot_.

Without any hesitation, Jean discarded Marco’s underwear, kissing the tip of the freckled boy’s cock, his lips smeared with pre-come, licking him at the spot directly under his head. One of his hands came to a halt at Marco’s hip, the other on the base of his swollen dick, and with an almost shy glance up to him, Jean took Marco into his mouth.

The brunette’s fingers fisted desperately into the pillow next to him, his left hand came flying to his mouth that he won’t moan in an obnoxious volume and disturb Jean’s neighbours as Jean swivelled his tongue over the head. Then Jean took in more, stroking the base lightly to compensate for not deep-throating him, and Marco’s back was _arching_. He hollowed his cheeks, bobbing his head, leaving Marco a whining mess that even biting into his hand didn’t help muffling the sounds he made.

Jean hummed in approval, the vibration in the tight, wet heat making the freckled boy’s head spin and his body shiver, and _dear Lord_ , he wouldn’t last long like this. Marco tried to thrust into Jean’s sweet mouth because he was so close, _so close_ , but the blonde kept his hips in place. With a quick lick over Marco’s slit, Jean sent him over the edge crying Jean’s name, arching beautifully from the mattress, and Jean let him come in his mouth until he had spilled all his come inside him, and he swallowed it to the last drop.

‘Oh my God, Jean,’ Marco panted as Jean came up to him again, spoiling freckled skin with quick pecks, ‘that was amazing, where did you learn that?’

But Jean just grinned slyly, shrugging, before kissing that mouth that just had screamed his name so nicely, still the taste of Marco’s come in his mouth.

‘A-and what … do you … want me … to do?’ Marco asked, blushing shyly as he saw Jean’s leaking boner. His was tracing Marco’s sides tentatively with his fingers, sending shivers down his spine.

‘Hm, dunno,’ Jean whispered against his lips, ‘whatever you feel like.’

Marco hitched a breath before he got the courage to say it out loud, if the airy cry could be called that way.

‘F-fuck me.’

Jean froze.

‘W-was that wrong?’ Marco asked panicky, hoping he didn’t go too far – yet Jean just had sucked him up, there wasn’t much a difference, was there?

‘N-no, i-it’s just unexpected? A-also aren’t people more sensitive, after they came?’ Jean blushed furiously.

‘I – I don’t care, I want you inside me.’

_Was that seriously coming from his, Marco Bott’s, mouth?_

‘O-okay,’ Jean nodded, kissing him once again before he grabbed for lube and a condom in his bedside table.

Long story short, Jean didn’t need long to get wrecked by Marco’s incredible tight heat while abusing his sensitive everything to let Marco come a second time, and both deflated on Jean’s bed together, sweaty skin pressed against each other in the dizzy afterglow. They cleaned up, though, and almost immediately after that they fell asleep, limbs tangled under the cover, listening to each other’s steadying breaths.

 

One week later, they somehow managed to find some alone-time together, between Christmas concerts, shopping trips, and in general obnoxious friends and family, and Marco stayed over at Jean’s again until he had to head back home, getting ready for church and the holiday festivities.

It was Christmas Eve, and while Marie was unwrapping one of their grandmother’s self-knit Christmas jumpers, Marco’s eyes fell on a cherry-red folder that he had stashed away in a corner together with what he assumed was a freckled matchstick-man from Connie (in cooperation with his younger siblings) and a bottle of lube from Eren (his parents luckily did not ask why he might need this) with a note that Jean got the matching condoms, and he had to smile.

 **To: Sasha Braus  
** **Hey Sash! I just wanted to thank you again for the present, and I hope you’ll like mine as well! Merry Christmas! :-)**

(It was a matching hat to her reindeer-bag that lit up as well if you squeezed one of the antlers.) And with a grin, he added,

 **To: Sasha Braus  
** **Though I must say that Jean’s prostate is stimulated very easily ;-)**

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed in his pocket, waiting for him to read the incoming message.

**From: Sasha Braus  
Merry xmas :) i hope u didnt wreck jeans sweet butt tho. **

If she knew, if she just knew…

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so- Am I sorry? Probably not, heh :^D
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, and kudos, comments and critiques are as always appreciated! Also thanks for reading :)
> 
> [Tumblr](http://inkykinky.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/inky_kinky).


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